


Saltwater Lips

by Churbooseanon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are better in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saltwater Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Another one, this time from synnesai, and based on the song Saltwater Room. Just a little slice of life.

There was a kink in his neck when he woke, a chill across his shoulders and cheeks, and when Church’s eyes opened the world was different than he remembered it being. Instead of the setting sun he had remembered coming out to after dinner, he found the night dark beyond the limits of the cabana. With a groan he pushed himself into a sitting position and took the chance to run his fingers through his hair—it was getting shaggy and Church made a note to get it trimmed when their vacation was over—and sighed. Caboose had promised to wake him if he fell asleep in the drowsy warmth of the end of day, and when Church looked around he found the lounge chair he remembered Caboose stretching out on abandoned.

A stiff breeze swept in off of the sea, heavy with the scent of salt and something strangely fresh, and Church found himself tugging the sweatshirt that had been draped over him—Caboose’s and about two sizes too big—over his head and shivered into the encompassing warmth. That gone he hunted around the cabana, searched by the hints of light cast by the Christmas lights strung around the inner edge of the cabana’s roof—he regretted insulting those now—to gather his things. A towel, the book he’d spent most of the day reading rather than swimming with Caboose or surfing with tucker, and he froze when he ran into Caboose’s sandals. Sure, Caboose was prone to leaving lots of things behind, but was he really forgetful enough to have…

Church looked up again, eyes searching in the low light beyond the limits of the cabana and sighed as he found what he knew had to be out there. Caboose, sitting on the edge of the beach, a few feet beyond the tide line, shivering like an idiot because he’d left his shirt behind for Church.

He didn’t bother to put on his own sandals. He hated the way they felt when sand got between them and his feet, and cleaning them was a fucking pain. Honestly, Church couldn’t even begin to guess just why he had even bothered to bring the things. The sand was cool, cold really, as he padded silently across the sand to stand behind Caboose, frown down at his shivering.

“Hey Church,” Caboose greeted, apparently having heard despite Church’s best attempts to be quiet.

“Caboose.”

He wanted to reprimand him for leaving him to sleep so long, but the simple truth of the matter was that he had made Caboose promise to wake him before Caboose went back in, and clearly Caboose had not gone back in. He hadn’t done anything explicitly wrong, so what could Church do?

“Wanna sit with me?” Caboose asked and with a sigh Church slowly lowered himself to the sand. Unlike Caboose he wasn’t willing to stretch his legs out and tempt the ocean waves brushing against his toes any time soon, though. So he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“What are you still doing out here?”

“Looking at the stars.”

Church glanced up at the overcast sky and sighed. “You know we can’t see them anymore, right?”

“Doesn’t mean they aren’t still up there and beautiful,” Caboose pointed out, and Church could see the smile on his lips.

“You’re… strange,” Church observed, and dared to let one of his arms unwind from his knees and sink into the sand at his side.

Predictably Caboose’s hand was there to cover his within a heartbeat, but neither of them commented on it, pointed it out, dared to break the peace of the moment. They knew saying it would be too much, would ruin it. So they stayed there, silent, while Church tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he felt more at peace, more content, more satisfied with life when he was this close to Caboose.

Another one of the things they didn’t dare to mention out loud, lest he think again.

“We should probably go in,” Caboose said at length, pushing himself to his feet. Yet as he did his fingers tightened around Church’s.

Content to let the darkness keep his smile to himself Church stood as well, didn’t break that point of contact. Didn’t say anything as their fingers interwove.

“We left some stuff at the cabana,” Church pointed out, trying not to let his entire mind rest in the fact that Caboose’s hand was warm and soft and fit perfectly with his.

“Yeah. I think we can leave it until tomorrow,” Caboose answered, his voice not hard so much as insistent.

Church couldn’t blame him. This sort of moment, this sort of contact, this sort of peace, never lasted long enough to let light fall upon it. He knew Caboose was right to steal as many moments of this as he could manage. So they walked together hand in hand to the small place they had rented with Tucker for their Spring Break, and did their best not to talk. Not to mention the way that Church was leaning in as they moved together. The way their hips brushed as they strolled across the sand. The way Caboose caught him when he tripped. Or how readily his head tilts up when they stop just short of the door, how it takes only a light touch at his jaw from Caboose for him to lean back and meet the gentle press of lips he never would have allowed during the day.

And between the soft press and the warm of the kiss and the way Caboose’s lips tasted like salt, Church hoped there would come a time when he wasn’t so scared of what all this had to mean. He hoped it was someday soon.

Tomorrow. Yes. He’d try to be a man worthy of Caboose tomorrow.


End file.
